Mailman, Bring Me No More Blues
by TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010
Summary: How the Carrigan household reacts to Max's draft letter. -oneshot-


**These ideas just keep popping into my head!**

**Except I've written SO many Max fics, it's insane.**

**Ah, well. As Jude would say, I love the bugger.**

**This is basically how the entire Carrigan household reacts to Max's letter being sent.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Mrs. Carrigan walked outside her lovely, white-washed suburban household to go pick up her mail. Normally, she had Lucy get it on her way in from hanging out with friends, but she remained confined to her bedroom, as Daniel's funeral had been just a few days ago. Mrs. Carrigan fought with her for hours about it, telling her it would be easier to move on if she were sociable, but eventually she gave in to letting her be for a couple days.

She sorted through the normal things, bills, letters from distant relatives, and church gala flyers as she walked back up her sidewalk to her front door. Just then, a formal, manila envelope passed through her vision and piqued her curiosity. She scanned over the return address, and saw the boxed, bolded letters of the Army. A little confused, she tucked her other mail under her arm and opened it.

What she read made her stop dead in her tracks.

Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan,

It is our duty to inform you that your son, Maxwell is to report to the nearest United States Armed Forces Recruitment Office on the nineteenth of August, nineteen sixty seven for drafting. He is required by the United States government...

She couldn't read the rest. She knew what it said. A hand instantly flew to her heart, and she shut her eyes in dismay.

Max and she hadn't been on the most stable terms lately. He had said with false reassurance that he was doing fine in school, but she wasn't the dim-witted, oblivious parent he thought her to be. When she and her husband received bills from the school for broken windows, vandalized property and such, it was not difficult to connect the dots. Then he dropped out. Of _Princeton University_, the most prestigious school in the country, a year and a half to graduate. His determination to be ignorant of his pricey education, be friends with the most questionable people, and then of all things to move to New York was infuriating.

But he was still her son. Of course, as all mothers do, she sometimes still thought of him as her mischievous, little boy with the devious, crooked grin but the good heart. And now, they were going to take away her little boy, throw him into army greens, and ship him off to Vietnam. Probably to die.

A few tears welled up in her eyes, but then a nearby neighbor called out a greeting to her. She instantaneously wiped her tears and put on a bright, but extremely false smile, giving the neighbor a little wave as she did so. She turned and walked as quickly back into her house as possible.

Mrs. Carrigan leaned against her mahogany front door after she closed it, not sure what to do or say or think.

"What's in the mail, hon?" questioned her husband from the other room. She quickly scuffled into their quaint, yet comforting living room, where Mr. Carrigan sat in the far easy chair, reading the paper.

"Oh, you know…bills…a letter from Magda…and this," she said softly as she thrust the letter in front of the newspaper covering his face. Slowly, he folded the paper and took the letter from her shaking hands. He read it, yet it his face remained expressionless.

"This came today?" he asked gruffly. She only nodded. He sighed and leaned farther into the deep cushions of his easy chair.

"It'll be good for him…give him something to do," he said, but his eyes were filled with worry. They were the same electric blue as his wife and children's were, and that seemed to be the way to see their true emotions. It was a weakness the entire family shared.

"How are we going to tell him?" his wife inquired.

Mr. Carrigan took off his reading glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. "We could send it to him." Max had so graciously scribbled the apartment address and phone number right before he left and given it to them.

"You know he'll ignore anything we send to him."

"Well, how else do you suppose we do this, Pam? You know he won't return a call."

"Mom? Dad? Are you fighting about Max again?" said an exasperated voice from the kitchen. Julie, Max and Lucy's youngest sister, came from the table, where she had been working diligently on her homework and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Julie loved them both, but she couldn't help but feel like the left out child sometimes. Her parents constantly fought over her eldest sibling, to them his troublemaking wasn't as amusing as she thought it was, and now Lucy, whom had understood when she was younger, had graduated from high school, which of course gathered much attention, and recently Daniel's death had drummed up a lot of sympathy from both her mother and her father.

Mrs. Carrigan looked at the floor, and her husband sat up in his chair, resting his arms on his knees. "Your brother's going to be drafted. For the Army."

Julie snorted. "Army? Max?"

"He doesn't have a choice, sweetheart. He has to go."

Julie's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you sit down, Julie?" interrupted her mother quietly, but firmly. She did as she was told, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"There's thing the government puts out called the draft when they don't have enough soldiers fighting in the war. They send out letters to random boys throughout the country, and they are required to register for the Army," her father said.

"So, he's going to Vietnam?"

"Most likely."

Julie didn't say anything for a while. She studied the war in her social studies class, and there it sounded brave and patriotic and wonderful to be fighting for your country. However, she didn't realize how easy and quick it was to lose somebody until Daniel died. Then she began to notice the large number of gold stars hanging her neighbors' window and a particular newscast live from Vietnam that she watched the other day scared her to pieces.

She remembered the last time she saw her brother, which was over Thanksgiving. He had barely stayed for 24 hours, his arrival almost being as swift as his departure.

Max had given her one of his famous, bone-crushing hugs and a loud, smacking kiss on the side of her cheek before he left, beaming down at her lovingly.

"You come to New York if Mom and Dad are driving you up the wall. I'll buy you the ticket and everything," he had whispered in her ear.

"And why would you want your twelve-year old sister living with you?" she had retorted matter-o-factly.

"Mmm…'cause you're cool and I love you, Jules."

She had giggled, thinking it wouldn't be too long before he would come back with no home and no job, begging their parents for money, and responded him with a careless "whatever" before embracing him one last time.

Now, she wasn't so sure. Would her brother find a way to wriggle out of it (she wouldn't be surprised if he did), or would he end up like Daniel? She didn't want to think about the latter.

"Is Max going to be okay?" she asked finally, absently fingering the ends of her long, blonde braids and hoping her parents would give her some sort of assurance.

They both exchanged glances before her father shakily answered "Of course he will be. As long as he gets his act together and doesn't act like a fool."

His reply was anything but comforting. It was as though in those few seconds they had exchanged glances, her parents had telepathically said to each other "We have to tell her he'll be okay, even if he won't be." She wasn't as unaware as they thought she was.

As she left her parents to talk amongst themselves, she wandered back into the kitchen and noticed the little slip of paper Max had written the address and phone number of his apartment in New York. Looking at the barely readable scrawl of a note, Julie felt the strong urge to pick up the phone and call him, wanting to hear his own familiar baritone reassuring her that he'd be fine, even though he had no idea what he was about to get into. She resisted it, nonetheless, and sat back down to do her homework, hoping that her older sister would be somebody to talk to in the future.

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Sniffing and face swollen and red as a strawberry, Lucy finally emerged from her room a few days later. The house seemed quiet, she thought she heard her parents and sister pull out of the driveway for church an hour or two ago, so she shuffled down the steps, enjoying the cool feeling of the hardwood floor against her bare feet.

Lucy made her way into the kitchen, pressing a hand against her flat, growling stomach. She hadn't eaten for days, and though she hadn't felt the least hungry earlier, now she was starved. She rummaged through the cabinets and pulled out a box of cereal, poured herself a bowl, and ravenously started gobbling it after sitting down at the table, not bothering to get herself a spoon.

After cupping her hand into a funnel and pouring the dry cereal into her mouth, she noticed an open letter on the table. She figured it was probably nothing of great importance but curious nonetheless. Still munching contentedly, she reached across the table and picked up the letter.

As her eyes scanned down the page, her heart stopped and her eyes grew wide.

_No…No, they can't do this. Not now, please God, no…_

But no matter how many times she read it, it stated the same thing. She fell against the backing of the kitchen chair in dismay, a new wound cut into what she thought was her numb soul.

First her boyfriend, now her brother. How many people could they possibly take away from her? The war was only getting worse and worse, and more soldiers were dying by the thousands, and…

Her vision blurred. She thought earlier that there was no possible way she would have any more tears to cry, but apparently when something like this happened there were.

There was the false hope that he would find a way out of it. He had incredibly gifted in getting out of anything that required him doing work or being responsible.

_But the war…even Max might not be quick enough for that…_

Two months. That how long he had. It seemed far away and horrifically close at the same time. And she had no idea what to do about it.

The front door opened and her family walked in, taking off church hats and sunglasses. Mrs. Carrigan smiled warmly at her eldest daughter, glad to see her up and about, but the smile faded as she realized that tears were dripping down her face.

"What is it, honey?" she asked as she went over to her daughter. Lucy merely looked down at the letter, her eyes narrowing in anger and resent as she did so. Her mother could only make a small noise in agreement and wrap her arms around Lucy's neck, kissing the top of her head.

"You have afraid to feel this way, Luce. But it'll give your brother something productive to do with his life and I'm sure he'll be just fine," said her father as he walked into the kitchen.

"Productive? You think this war is productive?" she spat incredulously.

"I never said I approved of it, sweetheart, I just-"

"They just want another body to throw in front of the Vietnamese, Dad. They just want to put somebody else's life in danger and he's not going to live!"

Her words rang throughout the house and neither of her parents responded. Lucy shook her head in frustration, ran back up the steps and into her room, slamming the door behind her.

She fell onto her bed in a mess of heartbroken sobs. What did she do to deserve this? Why God punishing her for having a good relationship with Daniel, a happy, carefree brother, and a perfectly oblivious, but content family? One by one these things were being taken from her, all because of some stupid war that the country shouldn't even be in.

There was a soft knock on the door and whomever it was opened it slowly. Lucy turned around, sniffing and wiping her eyes best she could, and saw Julie standing in the doorway, staring at the floor and shoulders slumped in defeat.

"He's not going to be okay, is he?" she said, fighting back a flood of tears.

Lucy's face crumpled. She regretted saying those words. This was not something her baby sister should have to worry about.

"Oh, Jules…" she murmured, holding her arms outstretched. Julie ran into them, crying softly against her shoulder. The two of them sat there for a while, not saying anything at all.

Finally, as Lucy rested her chin on top of Julie's head, stroking the long, blonde locks so similar to her own, she sighed and shut her eyes. "Dad's right…Max will probably be just fine…" She brought her around so that she looking at her, and placed both her hands on Julie's shoulders. "…and he wouldn't want you to worry about him, okay?"

She nodded and Lucy gave her the tiniest of smiles, kissing her forehead lightly. Again, she felt terrible for putting those disheartening thoughts in her sister's head, and hoped that her parents or Max himself would be able to reassure Julie better than she could.

Lucy needed to see him. She wanted to be the one to tell him, as painful as that would be. She doubted he would listen if her parents told him, and there wasn't anybody else who could do it. She wanted out of the house anyway, being cooped up inside. Now that she was going off to college soon, she wanted to do something adventurous and exciting. New York was certainly those two things, as would living with her brother for a while.

So, after a lot of coaxing to both of her parents, assuring she'd phone call the second anything went wrong, she was set to leave the next week. Feeling it would be in bad taste to spring her arrival on them, so she went for the little scrap of paper with the information on it.

She dialed the apartment number one night, and was surprised when she heard a deep, Liverpool-tinted voice answer "Hullo?"

She racked her brains, trying to remember the name of the attractive young Englishman Max had brought home from Princeton. "…Jude?" she said eventually.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Lucy. Max's sister."

She flushed a little as she thought she heard him chuckle just a bit. "Hey, how's it goin'?"

"Alright. Is Max around?"

"Uh, yeah. Just a sec…"

Lucy heard Jude call out his name, a lot of rummaging, and at last the annoyed, gruff voice of her brother. She couldn't help but giggle as she heard him shoot off many profanities as he seemed to be caught up with something.

"What?" he answered, clearly irritated.

"Max, it's me."

"Oh, hey Luce. Sorry, didn't think it was you."

"Yeah, I sort of guessed that."

"What's up?"

"Umm…is it alright if I come and stay at your place for a while?"

"Okay, Lucy, what did you do to make Mom and Dad kick you out…drugs? alcohol? crazy sex parties?"

Lucy laughed merrily, forgetting how much her brother made her smile. "Shut up, I didn't do anything. I just want out of the house for a few weeks, you know?"

"Yes, completely understand there." Suddenly, his tone was all serious. "I heard about Danny. Are you alright?"

She paused for a moment, sighed, and nodded a little. "Yeah, I guess I'm alright. But that's even more of a reason to get out of here. Everything's dreary and depressed around here, and…I need a change."

She could practically hear the familiar, crooked smile of his growing on his face before he answered "No problem, Luce. Just let me ask my landlady real quick, 'k?"

Lucy patiently waited as Max shouted to someone in another room if "my sister can crash here for a while," to which the answer must have been yes because he came on the line saying "You're good to go. When are you coming?"

"Next week."

"Sweet. Love you, Luce."

"Love you, too."

She hung up the phone, happy she was going to see her brother, but feeling guilty that the real reason she was coming was to be the bearer of bad news. She didn't know what he would do or say, but she had the feeling he was going to having trouble wriggling out of this one.

Sighing and heading up to her room, she tried to push those horrible, looming thoughts out of her head and to thinking about the good times she would have with Max, and possibly that irresistible Englishman who hadn't completely left her thoughts ever since she'd seen him.

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**Yeah, I know that was suuuuuper long.**

**But thanks for reading it!**

**Now, press that lovely review button.**


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